Trapped
by hailingstars
Summary: Tony attempts to pry information from Peter by trapping him down in the workshop.


A/N: So it's been awhile since I've posted on here! Hi! I've been posting every day on A03 for Febuwhump, and I've decided to pick a few of my favorite stories I've written so far and post them here. They're short and random, but I hope you enjoy!

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Peter jammed his thumb against the elevator call button, repeatedly. He knew it wouldn't work. That Mr. Stark was being petty and had ordered FRIDAY to freeze the workshop to prevent him from leaving, but Peter felt like being petty, too. Besides, if he kept pounding his thumb against the button like he was eventually Mr. Stark would have to let him go, or at least, that's what Peter wanted him to do. It wasn't looking good. Mr. Stark didn't even acknowledge what was happening until about the twentieth click of the button.

"You break it, you buy it."

He spun around on his heel and glared at Mr. Stark. He was still standing at his workstation, still not even looking at him while he continued on with his latest project with a screwdriver in hand.

"Let me out."

"Nope," said Mr. Stark. "Not until you tell me what's going on with you and where those bruises came from."

"I already told you. Nothing. Nothing's going on. I swung into a building last night on patrol."

"Yeah. No. You're a terrible liar."

Peter sighed, heavy and loud, so it would carry across the room and Mr. Stark would catch on to how frustrated he was. That didn't get his attention, either, so Peter resorted to sliding down onto the floor. He pressed his back up against the elevator doors that refused to open for him, stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his arms.

"We're going to be here awhile, then," said Peter. "Might want to order a pizza, Mr. Stark."

Mr. Stark's head finally turned, and his eyes narrowed with something that immediately made Peter regret ever opening his mouth with a statement that even sounded remotely like a challenge. Peter froze up as Mr. Stark tilted his head at him, grabbed one of the rolling chairs and pushed it over to sit a few feet in front of Peter, then sat down. He crossed his arms too, only he hadn't bothered putting the screwdriver down, so the tip of it poked out on his left side.

Peter straightened up a little at Mr. Stark stare and pushed further back into the doors behind him. He was settling in for the long battle of wills that was about to go down, determined to win, even if he knew it was extremely unlikely that he would. Mr. Stark had all the advantages, including, but not limited to, higher ground and a comfortable chair.

Trapped on the cold, hard floor in Mr. Stark's workshop, engaging in a staring war, was the last place Peter wanted to be. His secrets weren't safe there, and he wasn't ready to let go of them. He kept his mouth shut, his eyes narrowed, as seconds passed, as minutes passed, and Peter felt a bit proud for staying strong for so long, hours passed.

He sat up a bit taller. "Sure, you don't want that pizza?"

"Peter it's been ten minutes," said Mr. Stark. "Not everyone has your metabolism."

He deflated and his stomach growled funny, because he was only half joking about that pizza. It wasn't completely pathetic, though. It gave him an idea. "So that's a no on the pizza? Because I'm starving, Mr. Stark and I don't remember the last time I ate, and you don't want me to pass out like that one time in – "

Mr. Stark raised his hand up, cutting him off, and readjusted his position in the chair so he could fish his cellphone from his pocket. He called in a pizza, but Peter's plan was ruined quickly and effectively. FRIDAY alerted them the pizza arrived, and Mr. Stark made him stand on the complete opposite side of the workshop before he would even approach the elevator.

"This is completely unnecessary!" Peter was so far away, he had to shout to be heard.

Mr. Stark pointed a finger at him and yelled back. "Stay. FRIDAY will tell me if you move."

Peter rolled his eyes, groaned and slouched back down against the wall. He should've stayed home tonight despite his current living situation, should've known Mr. Stark would overreact about a few bruises, although he could've never predicted this. That overreacting would mean not letting him go home.

It was going to make things worse, but there was no way to explain that to Mr. Stark without telling him the whole truth. He couldn't do that. It was embarrassing and it would hurt May and he wasn't ready yet.

But also, he didn't want another event to happen in the apartment when he got home, when aunt May left for work, so when Mr. Stark came back with the pizza, he pulled on the best puppy dog eyes he could. Normally not even Iron Man was a match for them, but that time, he just handed him the hot pizza box.

"Not gonna work, bud."

Peter opened the box and disappeared behind the cardboard. The pizza looked good, smelled good, but suddenly he wasn't hungry. He wasn't leaving the workshop without telling Mr. Stark what was going on, whether he was ready or not. When he put the lid to the box back down, he saw Mr. Stark had sat across from him, on the floor.

"It's just us here," he told him. "You can tell me anything."

Peter didn't say anything. He felt the walls closing in, though, and he wasn't just trapped in the workshop but also under Mr. Stark's scrutiny. He didn't know how much longer he could take it without breaking down.

"Okay, then I will make it easy for you," said Mr. Stark. "And I'll start with my suspicions. If you got those bruises yesterday, they would be healed by now, which means they're fresh and I know you haven't been in the suit because I checked with FRIDAY. So, either you're just extremely clumsy and you fell on your way over here, or someone gave them to you, and I think I know who."

"You don't know anything. That's all speculation," said Peter, but it was obvious Mr. Stark was dangerously close to the truth by the way the pizza got abandoned on the floor, by the Peter drew his knees up to his stomach and hugged them.

"Hitting kids isn't okay. That's abuse – "

"-He doesn't see it as abuse. He says it's bec – "

"I don't fucking care how he justifies it," said Mr. Stark.

Peter clicked his jaw shut as Mr. Stark's calm tone was replaced with an angry one. The levy to his wrath had been broken by Peter admitting, in his own way, that his suspicions about May's boyfriend were true. Mr. Stark knowing the truth wasn't as terrible as Peter thought it would be, his outrage was validating, and it made him regret not telling him sooner, brought all the other insecurities pouring out in the open.

"I.. it's my fault, I piss him off sometimes."

"You piss me off all the time and I've never – "

"But I just _let _him hit me and I'm Spider-Man… I should be… should be stronger than that."

"It takes strength to show restraint," said Mr. Stark. "A weaker person with your powers might have killed that man by now. You're plenty strong, and you don't have to worry about looking weak, not with me, or your aunt."

Peter didn't know if he believed him all the way, but it was tough to disagree with Mr. Stark, at least out loud, so he nodded. Mr. Stark repositioned himself, so he sat next to Peter against the wall, threw an arm around him and picked up the forgotten box pizza.

"What do we do now?"

"Tonight you'll stay here with me," said Mr. Stark. "And tomorrow we'll go evict the freeloader, as for right now, please eat this pizza, alright? The idea of you passing out again is giving me a migraine."

"Yeah, okay."

They sat there like that, on the floor, in the workshop, munching on pizza and both them wishing Mr. Stark had thought ahead enough to had brought down drinks. They could've gone up to the kitchen and gotten something, but Peter wanted to stay trapped down in the workshop for a bit longer, down in the place where he could sit and pretend the rest of the world and its problems didn't exist, where secrets were safe even if they were shared out loud.


End file.
